Behind Closed Doors
by SA3466996
Summary: Series of one-shots. All involve the same location. Different characters/time periods. Some episode related. Some AU. Ch 3 - Dead man listening. Gibbs talks and Tony listens following the events in the bar in 'Dead Man Talking'.
1. Not caring

**Behind Closed Doors**

A/N - A series of one-shots all involving the same location but different characters and different time periods. Not in chronological order. Some episode related. Some AU.

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**Not caring**

**Title:** Not caring. **Author:** SA3466996. **Rating:** T, PG-13, FR-13. **Category: **Angst. **Genre:** Gen. **Pairing:** None. **Character(s):** DiNozzo. **Summary:** Tony's thoughts in the elevator before he comes face to face with Trent Kort in the squad room in Bury Your Dead. **Spoilers:** Bury your dead. **Disclaimer:** NCIS characters belong to Bellisario, CBS and Paramount. No copyright infringement intended. **Beta(s):** CSIGeekFan and Will.

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One '66 Mustang—well done; optional crispy French fry to go. He couldn't believe his baby was gone.

Still buzzing from the internal shot of adrenaline forced on him during the explosion, he thumped the button for the second floor. They would have been looking for him; he'd sent the distress code to Jenny. He had no idea what kind of reception he was going to get when he walked into the squad room. Welcoming? Frosty? Indifferent? He didn't care; just glad that he was able to _experience_ a reception of some kind.

He didn't care if Gibbs whacked him into the middle of next week.

He didn't care if Jenny reamed him out in front of the whole squad room.

He didn't care if Abby squeezed the breath out of him with one of her compression bandage hugs.

He didn't care if Ducky wanted to poke and prod him, checking for signs of life. He still wasn't sure he _was_ alive.

He didn't care if Ziva did not use a single contraction for the rest of the day.

He didn't care if McGee bored him to tears explaining how he'd traced the location of his burnt out cell. If, of course, he'd been ordered to find it in the first place; which he didn't think he would have. Tim would have been on it before the words came out of Jenny's mouth.

Jenny's mouth, or Gibbs's? God, Gibbs. Tony slammed his fist against the elevator wall and hissed at the sharp pain that jolted up his right arm. He'd lied to him. Again. He wouldn't blame the guy if he socked him one the moment the doors opened.

Tony sagged, leaning heavily against the side of the elevator. _That had been so close. Too close._

_Maybe not close enough._

Anger burned deep inside, threatening to combust; consuming him whole within his temporary confinement. Resisting the urge to punch the side wall a second time, as that would only cause him more pain - at least the physical kind anyway - he closed his eyes. There was no way that physical pain could match the empty ache he felt; the emotional mangling that his heart experienced at lying to the man he respected and the woman he loved.

_You stupid bastard, Anthony._

The woman he loved. The mark. The contact he was supposed to cultivate. He'd blown his own cover. His legend, no more use than his burnt out Mustang. The op was over; Jeanne, most probably, over too.

The lies, the hurt; he was done. _No more lies, Anthony_._ Gotta stop hurting people._

Tony opened his eyes and glanced at the lights above the doors. Number one lit up and then dimmed as the lift passed the floor.

All that was left now was the customary awkward debrief with the Director, and the inevitable unspoken dialogue with Gibbs which would most likely consist of him having to face the look of concern closely followed by disappointment evident deep within those piercing blue eyes. Gripping the side of the elevator, Tony turned to face the doors and lowered his head. He'd screwed up and he knew it. Hell, by now _everyone_ knew it.

As the elevator arrived at the second floor, the reassuring ping echoed loudly in the car. _Time to face the music, Anthony_. He mentally spurred himself into action; his fragile mask of wide smile and _'I'm fine'_ eyes slipping into place. The doors slid open and Tony looked up to find none other than the bastard who'd probably blown his cover to La Grenouille weeks ago. Here was something worth punching, albeit verbally.

Tony's smile inched wider and he locked eyes with Kort before laughing half-heartedly.

"Hey, my car blew up this morning. Did you do that?"

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	2. Smokescreen

**Smokescreen**

**Title:** Smokescreen. **Author:** SA3466996. **Rating:** T, PG-13, FR-13. **Category: **General. **Genre:** Gen. **Pairing:** None. **Character(s):** Gibbs, Franks. **Summary:** Change can be such a drag. **Spoilers:** None. **Disclaimer:** All NCIS characters belong to Bellisario, CBS and Paramount. No copyright infringement intended. **Beta(s):** CSIGeekFan and Will.

**A/N:** No. 2 in the 'Behind closed doors' one-shots series. I took some liberties with this and assumed that Gibbs and Franks worked together at the Navy Yard at some point during Gibbs's probie year.

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"So, this is it then."

The two men stood facing the doors. The seasoned agent drew the last remaining ounces of nicotine from his cigarette and turned to give his Junior agent a quizzical look. "Not up to your Marine Corps standards, Probie?"

"Not what I'm saying at all, Boss."

Turning back to face the doors, the older man let a sly smirk break through his tough exterior. He was amused at how his tone of voice could still floor his agent. "Better not be."

They rode in silence.

"You ever thought about giving that up?" the younger man nodded at the cigarette that his boss had just thrown on the floor of the car and was squashing into oblivion with his boot. "You must get through two or three packs a day, at least."

The smack to the back of his head wasn't unexpected and, as he brought his head back up to meet his boss's eyes he answered rhetorically, "Stupid question huh?"

His boss intent on ignoring him, the Probie turned his thoughts to what awaited at the end of their journey. _Why is it taking so long?_ He could have walked up the stairs whilst carrying an evidence kit and six cups of coffee quicker than it was taking this square box.

Cursing under his breath, he shifted his weight onto his other foot whilst he waited. He may have been there less than a year but he already hated office politics. A new Director was fine. Even the name change wasn't that bad; at least they weren't of the three letter brigade anymore. It was just... all the things that accompanied a new director and a new name that bothered him.

Restructuring.

Why did they have to move offices? What was wrong with the old one? It was the same with the jackets. They _were_ blue. Now they were black. Apparently, the change was all in the name of efficiency; being more joined-up. That was why they were being made to move from one office area to another. Was it really necessary? Or just a good excuse for corporate services to get themselves in a twist over such things as ID cards, signage, closed or open plan area layouts and whether to put the potted plants by the elevator or the windows? What he did know, was that everything that wasn't moveable was getting slapped with a fresh coat of sea-green paint; the choking fumes masked, albeit only briefly, by the stench of the Boss's cigarettes. What the hell was next? And since when was black more efficient than blue?

"Hey!" Franks rebuked as the elevator doors slid open. "You need waking up, Probie?"

"Nah, 'm good, Boss," Gibbs sidestepped to avoid the impending threat.

"Hmm. C'mon... let's go find where you can hide that hip flask of yours..." Franks chided. "And then _you_ can go fetch those black things you left in the car."

Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"And Gibbs..." Franks stepped out of the elevator and immediately hacked at the pungent aroma of fresh paint fumes. "Use the stairs. Left my third pack in the inside pocket. Don't want 'died from the effects of nicotine withdrawal' written on _your_ tomb... which I guarantee is what _will_ happen if you even think of using that slow, dumb ass elevator."

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	3. Dead man listening

**Behind Closed Doors**

**Title:** Dead man listening. **Author:** SA3466996. **Rating:** T, PG-13, FR-13. **Category: **General. **Genre:** Gen. **Pairing:** None. **Character(s):** Gibbs, DiNozzo. **Summary:** Gibbs talks and Tony listens following the events in the bar in 'Dead Man Talking'. **Spoilers:** Dead man talking. **Disclaimer:** NCIS characters belong to Bellisario, CBS and Paramount. No copyright infringement intended. **Beta(s):** CSIGeekFan and Will.

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"Kate, McGee, go ahead," Gibbs motioned for the two agents to leave as the elevator doors opened. "I need to have a word with Tony."

Kate cast a knowing smirk at her co-worker whilst McGee couldn't get out of the car quick enough.

Gibbs pinned Tony with a steely blue glare as the doors closed and then turned to press the button for the basement. He let the car travel a little longer than usual. _Between the first and second floors should do it_, he thought. The lights turned low and the low hum of the elevator ceased with a clunk as he flipped the emergency stop button.

He hadn't wanted to ream his agent out in front of a crowded bar. A bar full of people who had just witnessed the death, by federal agent, of a man... no... a woman. After all, all outward appearances indicated she was a woman. She had fooled the people in the bar, fooled him, and fooled DiNozzo in more ways than one.

He had made sure DiNozzo knew he was angry back at the bar. A _concerned_ glare and a curt 'Call it in. We'll talk about this later' was all that was needed at the time. Now was that time. Turning to face DiNozzo, he silenced the agent - whose mouth was already beginning to open - with a step forward and a raise of his eyebrows. He stared into the green eyes of the junior agent, injecting them with his own blue truth serum and waited.

He'd admired the guy's gall.

'_I had an opening. It was a clear field. I had to go for it.'_

That was DiNozzo. It was one of the reasons he'd hired the guy. It was also one of the traits that infuriated him so much. Gibbs had served with many men whose split second decisions had worked out; attended the funerals of those whose decisions hadn't.

He just wasn't sure how 'informed' Tony's decision had been and how much it had really had to do with the stirring in his pants.

The small twitching in Tony's facial muscles dampened and his jaw set tight. His eyes were pricked; full of fight and justification for his actions back at the stakeout. Gibbs knew DiNozzo wouldn't budge.

"I wanted Voss alive."

"Boss, I..."

"No. Don't want excuses, Tony." Gibbs took a half step towards his agent. "You saw Pacci. Saw what _she_ did to him." Anger laced his voice, the spit coating DiNozzo's shirt and jacket as the words flew out.

"You did see that, DiNozzo. God, Tony. You can't block that out like you can everything else."

"Wasn't trying to."

"Hey! You just don't get it do you."

"Get what, Gibbs. That I messed up... again; that Voss didn't have to die. That we could have brought Voss in before... all this..."

"No, bonehead. Can't you _just listen_ for once?"

"Listen all the time. I'm just good at multitasking. Eyes, ears... mouth..."

"DiNozzo! Shut up!"

His junior agent stilled and Gibbs inched closer, backing DiNozzo further against the wall of the elevator. He'd had his fill of DiNozzo's rather weak attempt at deflection through humour. "Want me to start calling you Probie? You went in blind today, Tony. No one was in danger. I said _watch_ and _wait_. There was no reason to go in alone."

"I got more intel."

"So did Abby. Intel that meant we could have picked up Amanda, Voss, without resorting to suicide by federal agent."

"Don't have to remind me about..."

"Think I do, DiNozzo."

Gibbs saw the pained expression fleet across Tony's face and hoped he'd understand why he was being harsh. It was true. Things could have ended differently and they both knew it. They could have picked up Amanda at her apartment where it would have been on their terms. No crowded bar; reduced risk of collateral damage. As it was, Amanda – Voss - was dead; lying on a slab down in Autopsy, and Tony had been cracked over the head with a bottle.

It could also have been a lot worse.

He let DiNozzo take in the silence before relaxing his expression and speaking somewhat softly.

"Don't want anyone else ending up like Pacci. Especially not one of my team." He left out the words, 'Especially not you'. He couldn't physically say them; hoping instead that Tony would glean the inherent message.

His hopes were confirmed when Tony eyes briefly flicked away from his and his second swallowed before looking him squarely in the eye.

"I get it. I hear you."

Gibbs nodded, turned to face the doors and flicked the emergency stop button. The elevator jumped into life and he squinted as the lights above them flickered and then bathed the car's interior with a warm glow. "Need your report ASAP," he shot over his shoulder. "IA are gonna be chasing statements too."

Tony nodded. "ASAP."

The elevator continued its descent until it reached the basement. The doors parted but neither man moved. Gibbs turned and gestured to Tony to leave. When the younger man looked at him with a puzzled expression and still didn't make any attempt to move Gibbs sighed. "Go see Ducky. Get some ice; painkillers for that skull of yours."

"Right."

Tony visibly relaxed and slipped past Gibbs. As the doors began to close, the agent turned back to face him and caught the door with his hand.

"Gibbs," DiNozzo paused before continuing. "Just so you know. I don't block anything out. I seal it in plastic evidence bags and file it away."

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End file.
